It's All Been Done
by jsq
Summary: A series of one-shots, all based on familiar fanfic tropes. We love 'em for a reason, folks!
1. Chained Together & Trying to Survive!

**Chained Together & Trying to Survive in a Hostile Climate!**

* * *

"I'm fine. I'm Indiana Jones, looking for the Lost Ark, I'm-"

"Tony." She put as much menace into his name as she possibly could.

"I am Lawrence, and this is Arabia-"

"Shut. Up. Tony." He was on more dangerous ground than he understood.

"I'm the Genie, getting ready to take Aladdin on a magic carpet ride, I-"

She had warned him. She yanked hard on the handcuffs chaining her right wrist to his left. Having knocked him slightly off balance, she finished the job by swiping her leg behind his knee. He went down, and she followed, landing on top of him with thud. For a blessed moment he was breathless and silent, and she took advantage, straddling him and pinning his hands.

"Listen to me very carefully. You will shut up. You will not mention another movie. If you do, _I_ will be the man in _127 Hours_, and I will think nothing of sawing off your arm to save myself."

"You saw that movie? When? I never saw it. Did you go without me? I'm hurt, Ziva. I thought movies were _our_ thing."

She pulled a fist, and he had the gall to grin.

"I'd think twice before landing that punch, Princess Jasmine. If you injure me, you're going to be the one who has to drag me through the canyons. I mean, unless you have a bone saw hidden somewhere in those tight jeans of yours. They're great jeans, by the way."

She stood abruptly, pulling again on the cuffs and dragging her idiot partner up with her. He was right, and she would have to be conciliatory. "Just try not to be useless, Tony. And please, stop with the movies."

But she knew her cause was lost when she saw the familiar glint in his green eyes. "If I don't, will you tackle me again?"

oOo

He was still talking, but Ziva had years of experience. She was able to tune him out. He was going on about the probability of the scorpions and snakes being underground this time of year, and she was trying to keep her mind off just how badly she needed to pee.

She had already assessed their situation half a hundred times, but she did so once again, just in case.

Supplies- None. Unless you counted Tony's Green Tea and Jasmine lip balm, which she did not.

Familiar Landmarks- None. Red cliffs and tumbleweeds as far as she could see. Tony had started naming the rocks they passed after cartoon characters they resembled, and she supposed she should not discount his method entirely. At least she would know they were walking in circles if they passed Elmer Fudd again.

Food Sources- None obvious. She had some ideas, but she did not look forward to sharing them with her partner. Better to starve, at least for a little while.

Water Sources- None, but it was February and nights in the canyons were cold. They could hope for frost in the morning, if they were lucky. If they were not, there would be snow...and hypothermia.

Threats- Freezing to death, dehydration, starving to death...maybe coyotes? And the possibility that they would turn on each other before it ever came to any of those other things. She was a realist.

Likelihood of Rescue- Negligible. Their failure to check in would surely have been noticed by now, but even if Gibbs knew to look for them in the canyon lands of Utah, or Arizona, or wherever they were, they would still be tiny needles inexplicably hidden in a huge haystack.

She felt desperation begin to choke her, but her father's words from when she was a very little girl returned to her. _"Fear does more damage than bombs."_

She took a minute to imagine...again...what she would do to the bastards who dumped them here once she caught them. Buoyed by dreams of revenge, she held her arm out straight and began counting the hand widths from the horizon to the sun.

"Do I even want to know what you're doing?"

"Figuring out how many hours of daylight we have left."

"And I was just wishing I'd been stuck out here with Weeblos McWilderness. What's the verdict?"

"Not many. The temperature will drop. We will need a fire."

"I don't suppose you have flint, or, better yet, some matches?"

She shook her head.

"Okay...well," he surveyed the landscape, "at least there's no shortage of dry wood. Let's start gathering."

"In a moment." She could not believe she was going to have to do this.

"In a moment? Oh, I'm sorry, do you want to stop to take in the majesty of our surroundings? Are you fucking kidding me, Ziva? Do you know how long it's going to take us to start a fire using wood and sticks? We don't _have_ a moment." He tried to storm off, but she stood firm, causing the cuffs to bite into both their wrists.

She gritted her teeth. There was no getting around it, so she would just have to say it. "In a moment. First, we will stay here by these shrubs, because I have to pee."

She watched him go very, very still.

"You have to pee?"

"Yes, it is a normal bodily function, and I can no longer...hold it."

His eyes crinkled first, then the grin began to spread.

"You are such a child, Tony."

He responded with laughter. "What are you waiting for? Go ahead, Tinkles."

"Turn around."

He continued to laugh, but did as she said. She removed her pants, trying her best to keep his cuffed hand away from her body. This was one of those times she cursed being born a woman. She stumbled a bit and while Tony didn't turn around, he did laugh harder.

"I would stop the laughing if I were you. That is, if you do not want harm coming to your shoes. Are those Italian leather?"

"You wouldn't."

"I absolutely would." She grinned in victory as that shut him up.

oOo

She almost cried when she saw the first spark. She pretended otherwise, but she had very little faith that they would be able to do it. It had been years since her survival training, and Tony was many things, but a camper was not one of them. They fed the sparks until they became flame, then sat back to enjoy their accomplishment. Tony began rubbing at his wrist, and she felt guilty about the number of times she'd jerked him around. She expected him to cut back with words, but he surprised her by staying quiet.

The sun had already fled the sky, and it was getting cold. She was dressed for Vegas, not for canyons. She moved closer to the fire and to her partner. This was no time for pride. He did not comment on that either, just huddled as close to her as he could.

After a while, Tony inevitably broke the silence. "Don't suppose you can think of anything we could roast over this fire?"

He already knew the answer, but she said it anyway. "No. We will have more time tomorrow. We will find food then."

"Or maybe Gibbs will show up. With a pizza."

She laughed. She hoped.

He was looking up at the sky, laughing his own harsh laugh, considering some irony he didn't want to share.

She fell back onto the cool sand. "We should sleep. We will figure everything out tomorrow."

He didn't answer, just fell back beside her. They lay there peacefully for a while, shoulder to shoulder.

Just as she was drifting off, he whispered, "Hey, Ziva?"

"Hmm?"

"Sorry my plan didn't work."

"It was a good plan, there were just too many men."

He was so close she could feel him smile. "You got in a good kick to that first guy's crotch."

It had been a good kick. She hoped it haunted him all the way back to Vegas.

"Hey, Ziva?" He whispered again.

"What, Tony?"

"Want a bite of my lip balm?"

And the sad thing was, she really, really did.

oOo

She awoke to someone trying to remove her arm from its socket. Tony. She kneed him hard in the side.

"Ow!"

"You were pulling on my arm."

"I forgot you were there."

She made a face. "Turn your head away from me. I had forgotten how badly your breath smells in the morning."

"Well, you're not exactly all minty fresh yourself."

He was quiet for a moment, and she imagined that, like her, he was trying to once again make peace with the reality of their current situation. In the silence she realized how cold she was. She tried to suppress her shivers. When he was not talking, she could hear that Tony was wheezing. She did not like that at all.

"Water."

"Huh?" She had been watching the rise and fall of his chest, trying to monitor his breathing.

He nodded to a stone formation on their left. "There's frost, and I bet it's condensed in some of those cracks. We should drink while we can."

They lapped desperately at the water until she said what he had to be thinking. "It will not be enough." She did not believe their circumstances were hopeless, but she knew the key to survival would be finding water.

"Our best chance of finding water would probably be to hike down the canyon and hope for a stream."

She nodded.

"Of course, there's the possibility that there won't be a stream and that once we get down there, we might not be able to climb back up."

That was a possibility, but not one on which she thought they should dwell. "You are just worrying about those precious shoes."

"They weren't cheap, Ziva," he answered with a grin.

oOo

"Stop." They were lucky- there was a passable trail to the bottom of the canyon. It was dusty, though, and she had not been able to forget the sound of his wheezing from earlier. She found the memory distracting.

"Ziva, what the hell? Do you have any idea how much this shirt cost?"

She didn't bother with an answer, just took the sleeve she had ripped from his arm and tore it in half, then tied it loosely over his nose and mouth.

"There is too much dust, and your lungs are bad."

He flipped up his makeshift veil. "You worried about me, Z? That's sweet."

She kept her eyes straight ahead. "As of now, you are only figuratively dead weight. Unless I want to attract coyotes, it is in my best interest to keep it that way."

oOo

Tony was sunburnt. So was she, but unlike her partner, she did not feel the need to say so every twenty seconds. She wanted him silent, both because his blathering was annoying and because when he was silent, she could better assess his breathing. But, inane chatter was Tony's best defense against despair, so she could not quite bring herself to make him stop. Instead she found herself straddling the familiar line between wanting him dead and being desperately afraid that something could happen to him.

Tony moved on from sunburns and started talking about blisters. She worried her bottom lip. Sunburns and blisters and eating lip balm would not kill them. Dehydration would. _We really could die here._ It seemed so brutally unfair. It seemed exactly like something that would happen to her.

She was beginning to seriously consider giving in to panic when she saw it. A stream, just as they hoped. Inwardly, she thumbed her nose at the shadow of death that always seemed to follow her. _Not today. _She pictured her constant companion falling a little farther behind.

"Well, it's water. A little scummy, though. We're going to need to filter it before drinking."

She agreed, so she turned a ripped the other sleeve off his shirt. "We can use this."

"I think it's time we started ripping at your clothes."

"I would not do that, unless you want me to boil those gorgeous leather shoes for dinner."

oOo

"Do not be a baby."

"I'm not being a baby. I'm simply being appropriately horrified."

"The hair will singe off and it will be fine." Truthfully, she could not believe those words had just come out of her mouth. _The hair will singe off and it will be fine?_ Still, she had to set the example.

"I can't believe there was a time when I ever thought you were hot." The look he gave her was full of newfound revulsion.

"Be grateful we caught a squirrel instead of rat."

"From where I sit, I can't see how it would've been so different."

"Oh, it would be different. Beadier eyes. Slimier tail."

"I would've eaten my shoes first."

"Tomorrow is a new day. You might still get the chance."

oOo

She awoke wrapped around him, but she decided it was forgivable since it was cold at the bottom of the canyon and she had rendered Tony's Prada shirt sleeveless. She gently rolled off of him, but when she sat up and looked over, she noticed that there was no reassuring rise and fall of his chest.

"Tony?"

She got no response, so she jerked hard on the cuffs. "Tony?"

Still nothing, and that's when the panic set in. Pressing her fingers to his neck, she nearly cried in relief when she felt a pulse. A pulse meant hope.

Instantly, she was straddling him, tilting his head to clear the airway. Her mouth was inches from him when she was hit with a blast of his breath. Then, his eyes were open, and he was laughing at her.

"And how do you like my breath _this_ morning?"

She said nothing, just sat back on his thighs while her hands shook in relief.

"You should see your face. Ziva?... Come on, where's the threat of violence I've come to expect from you?"

"You should not have done that." But her voice sounded shaky, not menacing, even to her own ears. She had become soft. Weak.

"The old Ziva would've punched me for that."

The old Ziva would have slit your throat long ago."

He nudged her and leapt to his feet, pulling her up too. "Kinda seems like the new Ziva enjoys having me around."

oOo

The new Ziva wanted to go home. She had not forgiven Tony for the morning, and she was starting to wonder if she might be able to slide off her cuff if she started breaking the bones in her hand. She was tired of scummy water and juniper berries and walking. The thought of roasting another rodent made her stomach turn. She wondered what her father would think if he could see her now. He would be disappointed, no doubt. He would want to know what had happened to the little soldier he had trained, what had become of the girl who relished any opportunity to fight for survival.

Fuck her father. She had already done her time in the desert.

She made a silent vow never again to accept an assignment west of the Mississippi River.

"It was just a joke, Ziva."

"And just like all of your jokes, it was not funny."

"I didn't think you'd actually fall for it. You never would have gotten this upset before."

"Things are not what they were before. And friends do not play those kinds of pranks on friends."

"Are you saying you're my friend? Or did your date just cancel?"

His attempt at lightening the tension took her back, and she would give anything to be in the familiar squad room with a bag of popcorn and a movie. "I am saying that you exhaust me, Tony DiNozzo."

He stopped suddenly and turned her to face him. "Sometimes I'm an idiot. Forgive me?"

"No more pranks?"

He held up two fingers. "Weeblos honor."

That made her laugh, and she saw the genuine relief in his eyes.

oOo

"Hey, did you hear that?"

They had been silently following the small canyon stream, enjoying a tacit truce. The sun was beginning to set, and the dread of another night in the desert was upon her. At first, she thought that the same dread was making Tony hear things.

But then she heard it too. "A truck."

They began running with an energy they didn't know they had toward the sound. And it was their lucky day, because the truck was heading toward them. She stopped short of hugging Tony in relief. He had never had her self-control, so she was not entirely surprised when he grabbed her cheeks and gave her a sloppy kiss on the lips.

When it came to kisses, she had experienced worse.

oOo

Riding in the bed of a truck along canyon roads was making her sick. Their rescuers had been peculiar and reluctant, but Tony was finally in his element and had talked the driver into a ride to Canyon National Park. From there, they could find the rangers and call their boss.

They were on their way home.

"I do not see why they would not take us back to their home to call Gibbs. You explained that we are federal agents. You even showed them your badge."

"I already explained this. They're Mormons, Ziva."

"As ridiculous an explanation as it was before. They are clearly _not _mythical sea creatures. Time travelers, I would almost believe, though."

A bark of laughter was his answer. "I said _Mormon. _Not mermen. God, Ziva. And not regular Mormons, either. Fundamentalists. The kind who live on compounds and have multiple wives...which was why they weren't exactly thrilled to stumble upon a couple of federal agents."

"Oh." That did make more sense than mermen. Hunger was obviously getting to her. "Well, it is nice of them to give us a ride, then."

"Just be careful not to be too friendly. The driver was eyeing you as you climbed in the back of the truck. I can only guess that he was imagining how sexy you'd be in one of those Little House on the Prairie dresses."

oOo

For the first time in far too long, she awoke comfortable, in a bed, without a gnawing hunger or a talkative partner chained to her side. She had been fed, hydrated and given ointments for blisters and sunburn. The rangers had gotten them to Salt Lake City and NCIS had put them up in a hotel and booked them on the next flight home.

Even better, the suspects who'd gotten the hop on them and dumped them in the desert had been apprehended and were currently being questioned by Leroy Jethro Gibbs. She smiled into her pillow, just thinking about it.

Tony was waiting for her in the lobby.

"Miss me last night, Tinkles?"

"Tony, if that nickname makes an appearance in D.C., I will remove your tongue. Slowly and painfully."

He _tsk'd_ said tongue. "The new Ziva should know better than to say something like that. Friends don't threaten friends with bodily harm."

She slowly invaded his space, not stopping until they were nose to nose. She smiled her most dangerous smile and brushed her finger over his lips. "It would not be wise to believe that there is none of the old mixed in with the new."

She had the satisfaction of seeing him swallow hard as she stepped back. And just to keep him off balance she linked her arm through his and smiled a much more genuine smile.

"Let us go home."


	2. Taking Care of a Toddler!

**AN: Special thanks to Amilyn for the both the idea for this series and the wonderful beta work**

**Taking Care of a Toddler!**

"McGee, get over to the hospital. No one sees Sahra Ibrahim without going through you first. DiNozzo, talk to the neighbors, find out everything you can about the chaplain and his wife. I'll speak with members of Wissam's unit. Ziva, you're on Mina duty."

She stared incredulously at the wailing two-year-old Gibbs placed in her arms. "Is this because I am a woman? I assure you that we do not come equipped with a natural affinity for toddlers."

"No, it's because she speaks Arabic...and so do you. Her father is dead, her mother is hospitalized, and I want to make this as easy on her as possible." His eyes were firm. "Keep her safe, Ziver."

McGee gave her a sympathetic look as he followed Gibbs to the elevators. "How different could it really be from working with Tony everyday?"

He had a point.

oOo

She did not doubt her ability to protect little Mina from whomever had harmed her parents. She was, however, much less confident in her ability to care for the girl until the suspect was apprehended. The only two-year-old she had ever been around was Tali, and she was still a child herself at the time. She had no idea what a toddler required, but she had always been resourceful, so she made her way over to the employee daycare center. The elderly woman in charge had been suspicious at first, but after seeing Ziva's ID and making a confirmation phone call, she wrote out a shopping list.

The shopping trip did not go well.

Mina never stopped screaming, which was not a huge problem in and of itself. Ziva was quite adept at ignoring loud and irrational companions. It did, however, attract a great deal of attention from fellow shoppers. Ziva was tempted to point her gun at the next person who walked by her and tutted his or her tongue.

In the diaper aisle, Mina's tantrum progressed from simple screams of terror to accompanying attempts to dive head first out of the cart. When the little girl bit her, Ziva gave up the fight. She lifted Mina out of the plastic prison and laid her on the floor to flail to her heart's content.

When a red-haired woman with "stay-at-home-mom" written all over her turned down the aisle, Ziva waved her over. Indicating her empty cart and the screaming child, she said, "She is two years old. Get me everything she will require for a few nights and meet me back here with the cart."

The stranger's only response was to gape.

"Federal Agent." Ziva held out her badge. "Go."

The woman went, and Ziva sank down next to poor Mina. "You see," she murmured to the child in Arabic. "This would be much easier if you showed that kind obedience."

Her conscripted personal shopper returned within twenty minutes, still looking dazed. The cart was full, though, and Ziva decided that was all that mattered. She thanked the redhead and lifted her wailing companion onto her hip.

There was a line to check out.

She was not going to wait in it.

She tightened her grip on Mina (who had added kicking and scratching to her repertoire) and once again started flashing her badge. She handed the clerk all of the cash in her wallet and told her if it was insufficient, she should call the NCIS budget office. She kept her badge out until they got to the car, just in case anyone thought she was an abductor.

oOo

Ziva was sure eventually Mina would cry herself to sleep. She was wrong.

She tried rocking her. She tried bouncing her. She tried leaving her alone. She tried singing and reading and making silly faces. She tried cartoons. She tried changing and feeding her.

For her efforts she got a pretty impressive slap to the face and a bowl of carefully chopped up pasta thrown at her white shirt.

And she understood.

Mina was scared and confused and grieving. She wanted her mother and father and her home, but all she had was a stranger. Ziva's heart broke for her.

But she also could not take it. It was 7:00 PM, and she was sure Tony would be home by now. It would not be right for his work day to end while hers lasted indefinitely.

They were a team.

oOo

"We are a team."

"Come on. Are you seriously going to tell me that you can't handle a little baby on your own?" He folded his arms and leaned against the doorjamb "Pathetic."

She pushed past him into his living room. "I have had her alone for six hours. I am supposed to be on protection duty." The look she gave him was pointed. "Consider yourself my backup."

He eyed the screaming, squirming little thing in his partner's arms. "Are you really sure I'm the kind of backup you need in this op?"

"I am sure that you are the backup that lives the closest, and that is all that matters."

She had a point, but he wasn't ready to concede. "Look, Ziva, I'd really like to help you out, but I sort of have plans-"

She held up hand and rolled her eyes. "Do not even try, Tony. There is no way you are getting out of this just so you can spend the night watching some stupid dvd you have already seen a million times." She glanced down at her once-pristine white shirt, currently covered in what he hoped was tomato sauce. "I need to change my shirt."

Before he could say anything, she headed back to his bedroom like she owned the place. He went to follow her, but was interrupted in _that_ by a knock on the door. His plans.

Dammit.

He opened the door to Jessica, the woman he was supposed to be cooking dinner for that night. She stood there all blond and perky and waiting to be asked in.

"You are Tony, right? Greg gave me directions..."

"This is the right place. Hi, Jessica." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "It's nice to meet you. Look, I am so, so sorry, but I'm actually in the middle of a big case at work, and tonight just isn't-"

"Tony?" Ziva. Fuck.

"You do own t-shirts, correct? Because all I can find are button-downs with designer labels, and..." The Israeli who so often proved to be the bane of his existence trailed off upon entering the living room and finding Jessica. To make everything even better, she had already taken off her stained shirt and was clad only in jeans and a lacy gray bra.

Jessica turned bright red. Tony wanted to die. Even Mina, still in Ziva's arms, recognized the awkwardness of the situation and reduced her cries to whimpers.

Ziva, of course, didn't seem fazed at all. She just smiled a wicked smile and walked right up to Jessica. "Hello. I am Ziva. Tell me, how do _you_ know Tony?"

"I...I don't. I mean, we have a mutual friend, and he suggested...but obviously...I'm just gonna go."

Jessica took off. He didn't even try to correct the misunderstanding. He hadn't been so keen on a blind date in the first place. He was going to catch some shit from Greg, though.

He turned his back on his runaway date to face his half-naked partner. "Was that necessary?"

The look she gave him was all innocence, and he resigned himself to his fate. "I just did laundry. You'll find clean t-shirts in the dryer."

oOo

Tony held a once-again-kicking-and-screaming Mina at arm's length while Ziva slipped into one of his t-shirts. The shirt was still warm from the dryer and she pulled it slowly over head, taking time to breathe in the laundry-soap smell. She felt clean again, which made her relax a bit and gave her an idea.

She took the little girl from a visibly uncomfortable Tony, earning herself a nice kick to the ribs. She couldn't believe the child was still going. She had truly remarkable stamina. Hoping cleanliness would prove as calming for Mina as it did for her, she ordered Tony to draw a bath.

Hearing the water shut off, she entered the bathroom to find Tony looking as proud as she'd ever seen him. As if filling a tub with water was the greatest of accomplishments. "Did you test it?"

"For what?"

"For temperature."

"I just turned on the water like I would for myself."

"It is too hot."

"It's fine."

"It is too hot for a baby. You are going to scald her. Do you want to explained a scalded baby to Gibbs?" Their entire conversation was punctuated by the cries of said baby.

The poor thing knew incompetence when she was surrounded by it.

Tony left the bathroom and returned with an ice tray, which he upended into the tub. "There."

She nodded in approval. "Better."

It took both of them to undress their little charge, but it was worth it. The water was magic. Her cries turned to half-hearted sniffles and she even smiled a little when she started splashing.

"She's like a reverse Gremlin."

"She is not a demon, she is just a child. She has been through a lot."

"Not a demon, a _Gremlin_. A reverse one. You know, because you're not supposed to get them wet, but this one obviously thrives in the water."

"I find you utterly incomprehensible, Tony."

"Too bad I don't have some bath toys."

"It would be extremely upsetting if you had bath toys. Besides, children this young will make a toy out of anything." She handed Mina a bottle of Tony's shampoo to beat against the water. "See?"

"Do you have any idea how much that shampoo cost?"

"Can you even begin to imagine how little I care?" She smiled down at a happily splashing Mina.

Tony walked out of the bathroom, which she thought was an overreaction. "Fine, Tony," she called after him, "I will not let her play with your special shampoo." She swapped bottles with the little girl. "She has the conditioner now instead!"

He returned with two plates of steaming pasta. "If it keeps her quiet, you can give her every toiletry in the house." He sat across from her on the bathroom floor and handed her a plate. I figured this might be our only chance to actually eat."

Right, she was hungry. She had forgotten. "Smells wonderful."

"_Grazie_."

"Was this supposed to be your date's dinner?"

"Yeah. Thanks for that, by the way."

"Sorry."

"Uh-huh. You looked sorry, standing all topless in the middle of my living room."

Her lips quirked for a moment, but her words were sincere. "I am sorry, Tony. I did not realize that you were...seeing someone."

"I'm not. It was a blind date. A buddy's idea. Doomed from the start, I'm sure."

"Are you disappointed?" She hoped she sounded more casual than she felt. She could feel him looking her over, assessing her, but she refused to meet his eyes.

He jabbed her foot with his big toe. "Nah. You, standing all topless in the middle of my living room mostly made up for it."

oOo

Mina liked the water, so they let her stay in it. For a long time. Long enough for her to get all pruney. To their credit, they kept refreshing the warm water, and they never left her. He didn't mind that his floor was soaked, or that his ass was sore from sitting on the tile. Anything to keep the crying from coming back.

Besides, she was kind of cute when she was happy- all big brown eyes and dark black curls. She'd even started talking a little, and though he couldn't understand a word, he enjoyed listening to Ziva speak baby Arabic.

"Look." Ziva nudged him and nodded at Mina, whose big brown eyes were starting to droop.

"Should we take her out?" He whispered. It seemed like time to start whispering.

"I do not know," she whispered back. "What if it upsets her?"

He had to laugh at his badass partner basically being held hostage by a baby. Then he remembered Ziva wasn't Mina's only hostage. "Let's wait a little longer."

"But what if she falls asleep and hits her head?"

The image horrified him. "We have to get her out." They were still whispering.

She nodded grimly. "I will lift her. You prepare the towel."

The toddler put up a little resistance as Ziva took her from the water, though she seemed content enough with being allowed to hold on to the conditioner bottle. He stood there with a towel in his arms, which he wrapped around the child as Ziva transferred her over to him.

Mina didn't start crying again. She even laid her little head on his shoulder. His heart clenched a little, but he tried not to let it show on his face. Ziva was watching, and he had a reputation to maintain.

He carried her to his bed, and Ziva handed him a diaper.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

She answered him with a look.

"But I don't know how!"

"You know as well as me."

Mina started to cry.

"Come on, Ziva. Now is not the time to prove a point."

"I am not proving a point."

He examined the diaper skeptically.

"Should I google how to change a diaper for you?"

"I've got it," he answered through gritted teeth.

Mina liked baths. She did not like diaper changes. She hit him on the head with his conditioner.

"She likes you," Ziva smirked.

oOo

This was not exactly how she had imagined her first night in Tony's bed. Oh, she had imagined it...but she had never thought to put a two-year-old between them.

"This is awful, Ziva."

"I know."

"Look at the way her lips are trembling and her chin is quivering. Do they all do that?"

"It was better when she was screaming in terror and confusion."

"This is just-"

"Sad."

"It's the saddest thing I've ever seen." Tony wiped on of the huge tears rolling down Mina's little face. "Maybe we should take her to the hospital to be with her mom."

"A hospital is no place for a child."

"This is no place for a child."

"It is the only place she has."

"God, that's depressing."

She agreed. "Almost as depressing as the way she is still clutching that bottle of conditioner as if it were a stuffed animal or a doll."

She watched Tony's face change. "That I can fix," he said. "Be right back."

Mina wailed when he got up and reached toward him.

"Ziva, do you see that?"

"I told you she likes you. Hurry back."

He returned in under a minute with his hands behind his back. "Promise me you won't laugh."

She glared up at him. "Do I look as though I am in the mood to laugh?"

He returned her glare with a skeptical look. Then directed his words at Mina. "I hope you appreciate what I am about to do for you."

Ziva's curiosity was peaked. "What do you have behind your back, Tony?"

He held up a very worn rag doll with bright red hair. "Raggedy Andy."

"Who?"

"Raggedy Andy. My Nonna made him for me when I was a baby."

"And you saved this...Andy."

"Yes, Ziva. I saved him."

Once again her lips were quirking.

"Not a word from you."

She held up her hand as a sign of peace.

"Okay, little gremlin. Andy's all yours. See, he's nice and soft, unlike that stupid bottle of conditioner."

Tony traded items with Mina, and Ziva felt a rush of affection for him that was nearly overwhelming. Mina clutched the doll close as Tony climbed back into bed.

"I have heard it said that boys who play with dolls-"

"I _said_ not a word from you."

She ignored him. "I have heard it said that boys who play with dolls grow up to be excellent fathers." She brushed her fingers through Mina's curls.

"Hmph."

But she just smiled to herself. He could not fool her.

oOo

His little gremlin eventually cried herself to sleep. He was beginning to drift off himself when he heard a whisper from the other side of the bed.

"Tony." Her voice become more urgent. "Tony."

"_What?_" He did not appreciate being disturbed while trying to fall asleep.

"Do you think she is having bad dreams?"

"Huh?" He glanced at the gremlin between them. Every once in a while she jerked a little and whimpered. "Maybe, but she'll be okay."

Ziva sat up, chewing on her bottom lip the way she did when she was concerned. "Perhaps I should wake her."

"Don't you dare," he ground out.

Mina whimpered again.

"She is definitely having a nightmare."

"Just let her sleep through it."

The little girl whimpered again, this time saying something he could not understand. Ziva gently shook her.

"Are you serious?" He could not believe she was doing this. As if their night hadn't been long enough.

"She is crying for _Ommee, _for her mother. I will not leave her in a bad dream, calling for her mom." She lifted a now-awake Mina and murmured to her in soft Arabic. "Do not worry. We will go to the living so as not to disturb your sleep."

She left, and he felt like an ass. Fuck. He didn't want to leave a little kid in a bad dream crying out for her mother either.

He went to the living room and found Ziva rocking Mina against the sofa, singing softly. Her eyes were closed, but she opened them when he sat beside her.

"I will not let her think that no one will come when she cries."

"I know." And he really did. "You forgot Andy." He handed over the doll. She squeezed his hand tightly when she took it, and he basked in the knowledge that, for once, he'd managed to do exactly the right thing.

oOo

She could feel sunlight on her face. Ziva cracked her eyes a bit. Morning. They had made it. She was curled into the corner of Tony's sofa. Mina was asleep on her shoulder, holding tightly to the fabric of her borrowed t-shirt. On her other side, Tony was gently snoring, his head resting on her thigh.

It was not exactly comfortable, but it was not without its charms.

Tony began to stir, and Ziva shifted so that his movement would not wake Mina.

"Hey," he whispered through a yawn.

"Good morning."

"I guess we never made it back to the bed, huh?" He peeked at Mina. "How's the gremlin?"

"Still breathing."

He smiled a half-smile. "Then I guess our evening was a success."

He made his way to the kitchen, but Ziva stayed put. She wanted the little girl to sleep for as long as possible.

"What do you think two-year-olds eat for breakfast? Just milk or something?"

"She is two years old. Not two months old. Do you have cereal? And fruit? Perhaps a banana?"

"That's a negative. But I have bacon. Do you think she likes bacon?"

"She cannot eat bacon. She is a Muslim girl. Muslims do not eat pork."

He returned to the living room with his arms crossed. "Well, you're a Jewish girl, and you eat pork."

"Her father was a chaplain. I suspect her family is more...devout...than mine."

"Eli David, not a man of devotion? Shocking. Well, there's that doughnut place on the corner."

She would not normally approve. All of that sugar for a child so small? Yet...it was not as though it was her responsibility to build lifelong health habits for the girl. She just wanted to keep her happy. "That is where we will go."

"That's my girl."

oOo

The gremlin woke up on the walk to the doughnut shop. He saw her lips start to quiver ominously, but he stepped in to take control of the situation. He immediately handed her Raggedy Andy and began making silly faces.

It worked.

He wasn't so bad at this.

Even Ziva was impressed. As she should be.

He ordered glazed doughnuts for everyone, milk for Mina, and coffee for the adults while Ziva entertained their charge by twirling her around on a stool. He wasn't sure if it was safe, but he figured he could trust Ziva's reflexes. Besides, they were both smiling. It was nice.

It made him feel like part of a family. He blamed it on the sleep deprivation.

His cell rang, and it nearly startled him into dropping the food.

Gibbs.

He'd sort of gotten caught up in his role as Ziva's baby-backup and forgotten that he was still technically on-call for the more investigative aspects of the case.

"DiNozzo."

"You with Ziver and the baby?" A classic Gibbs' opening line- brusque and with a hint of telepathy.

"Yeah. We're at the doughnut place by my house."

"Doughnuts, DiNozzo?"

"Slapping the back of my head right now, Boss."

"Suspect's been apprehended. Confessed."

"You didn't call me in?"

"Didn't need you. Figured Ziva did. Sahra's been released from the hospital. I'm sending her and McGee your way to get Mina."

"Oh. So soon. I thought...I mean I didn't expect-"

"See you on Monday, DiNozzo."

"Have a good weekend, Boss," he said on the already-dead line.

"Guess who's going home?"

Ziva paused in her twirling. "The case has been resolved?"

"McGee's on his way with Gremlin's _Ami._"

"_Ommee," _Ziva corrected. He might have been imagining things- sleep deprivation and whatnot- but he was pretty sure her face fell a little.

They ate their doughnuts in a silence he wouldn't have thought possible last night, and they had barely finished when McGee and a woman with the gremlin's big brown eyes walked through the door.

Mina began clapping and waving her hands. She slipped through Ziva's fingers and ran to her crying Ommee.

It was sweet. It was as it should be.

He and Ziva stood shoulder to shoulder on the sidewalk and watch them drive away.

"She lost her father."

"But she's still got her mom."

"They will be fine."

"Of course they will." He was going for casual certainty.

"You let her take your Andy of Rags."

"I always preferred Ann," he admitted.

"You have another of these dolls?"

"Andy's sister."

"Ah. Of course."

"I was going to suggest we take her to the fountains today," he said. He'd been proud of that idea.

"She probably would have enjoyed that."

"Yeah."

Tony took a moment to really look his partner over for the first time all morning. "You're still wearing my shirt. And the jeans you came over in. And, wow, Ziva your hair is a mess."

"You are still dressed for last night's date."

"I guess this is what children do to you. We're lucky things resolved so quickly. Can you imagined if this had been one of those cases that dragged on and on?"

"It would have been a disaster."

"We would have been a disaster."

"Absolutely." She sighed. "Perhaps you can salvage your date from last night."

"Hmm." His answer was non-committal. He grabbed her hand, and they stood together, two adult disasters, staring after a little girl that was long gone.


	3. Heatwave! And Blackout!

**Author's Notes:**

**1. Continued thanks to Amilyn for the idea and the beta work**

**2. Shout-out to Frank Sinatra for the lyrics to _As Time Goes By_**

**3. If you have a favorite trope you'd like to see me tackle, I'm open to requests**

* * *

**Heatwave! And Blackout!**

He rapidly passed on the four cards Abby tossed him and tried not to think too hard about what it meant that his Friday nights had come to this.

It had all started a couple of months back when Dorneget asked if he wanted to join him and a couple of the guys from the Latin America desk for their weekly card night. He had not, in fact, wanted to do that, but Dornie had seemed like an over-eager puppy when he asked, and the truth was that Tony probably needed to get out. He'd always been a guy with a pretty large social circle- guys from college, from basketball, from the old precinct, from his favorite bar, and then, of course, there had been the women.

But in the last five years or so they'd all faded away. They'd either burned out, or moved on, while Tony just sort of...stood still. Maybe not still exactly, but the directions his life had taken weren't really easy for his old buddies to relate to. They had digital photos of family vacations at the shore, and he had...a couple of scars from that one summer in Somalia. There just wasn't a lot of overlap there.

So, Dorneget asked and he said yes. Then he started to feel bad, because in a lot of ways Dornie was beginning to feel like the new Probie, and he didn't want to exclude original recipe Probie, so he'd asked if he could bring along McGee. Except that had thrown off their numbers, so they'd had to invite the Autopsy Gremlin...who had mentioned it to Abby. And somehow, in the midst of all that, Dorneget's four-man weekly poker night had become an NCIS free-for-all.

Oh, and they rarely played poker anymore. Mostly they played spoons. Tony discovered he didn't care, as long as there was brown liquor available.

You can see why he didn't want to think too hard about any of this, right?

And that's what he was doing- playing spoons and drinking whisky and not really thinking- when the world went black.

oOo

"Zombie Apocalypse!"

"Abbs, it's not the zombie apocalypse," McGee stated, setting an electric lantern in the middle of the table. "It's the heat. The power grid couldn't handle all of these record highs."

"Do you think we're going to get called in to work?" Jimmy asked with a shiver. "I remember what it was like in autopsy the last time there was a power outage, and I don't think I can do that again."

One of the guys from the L.A. desk raised an eyebrow.

"Don't ask," Tony advised him. "And, you know, why does it always have to be a 'zombie apocalypse' these days? Is a good old _regular_ apocalypse too tame for everybody? The end of the world isn't enough, we need the possibility of brain-eating monsters too?"

"I can tell you one thing," Stephen from the Latin America desk said, ignoring Tony's entirely valid observation about new standards for an apocalypse, "if this were the end of the world, no way I'd be spending it with you jokers. I'd be paying a visit to Lulay from the North Africa division."

Dorneget laughed so hard beer spewed out of his mouth. "Dream on, man. Even an apocalypse wouldn't get you in her door." He re-started the game they'd abandoned when the lights went off.

"I'd want to be with Breena. Definitely. And maybe Dr. Mallard."

"Aww, Jimmy. That's so sweet. Well, I'd want to be with you guys...plus Gibbs and Ziva...and the sisters, of course. OH! We could absolutely have an End of the World bowling tournament."

"That sounds really nice, Abby," Dornget said.

Tony stayed silent. Neither bowling nor trying to get laid by someone who'd never given him the time of day would be his preferred way to end his time on the planet. McGee was about to grab a spoon. Tony had been watching him long enough to recognize the way his hand twitched. He could have reached right along with him, grabbed a spoon too.

But he didn't.

"I'm out," he announced when the spoon-grabbing frenzy had settled. "Think I'm going to hit the road."

"Why?" Abby protested. "It's dark out there. And hot. And don't forget about the zombies."

He patted her on the head. "There are no zombies, Abbs."

oOo

Despite the absence of traffic lights, it didn't take him long to reach his destination. He couldn't say for sure where all the cars on the road had gone, but the District seemed pretty deserted. Almost like Abby's apocalypse fantasy come to life.

The woman he was looking for was sitting alone on her stoop with a few candles, her hair falling in long, soaking wet curls past her shoulders.

Almost like his apocalypse fantasy come to life.

As he got closer, he could see that her eyes were closed and that she was holding a glass of ice.

"What are you doing here, Tony?" She did not open her eyes.

"How do you do that, Ziva?"

She looked at him this time, a little smile playing at the edges of her lips. "Perhaps I am magic...or perhaps your car sounds like a death trap, and I would recognize it from miles away. What are you doing here, Tony?"

"Your hair is all wet." He sat beside her on the concrete stairs and began twisting a damp curl around his finger.

"It is hot. I took a cold shower."

He wanted to thank her for the mental image. Good sense prevailed and he refrained. "I'm surprised to find you alone out here. Where are all the neighbors?" Not that she had many. They'd brought her back from hell, and she'd bought a townhouse as close as possible to the Navy Yard. It was still what you might call an "up-and-coming" neighborhood, and there were not many D.C. residents with Ziva's pioneering spirit.

"Inside, I suppose. Maybe they decided to simply go to bed so they could hide away from the dark."

"But not you, huh? You're not afraid of the dark."

She plucked an ice cube from her glass and ran it over the back of her neck, then offered one to him. He took it.

Damn, it was hot.

"I like it," she said. "The dark. Why are you here, Tony?"

"Because blackouts feel a little bit like the end of the world."

The way she slowly looked him up and down indicated that she was trying to decide whether or not that was an acceptable answer. Eventually she shrugged a shoulder and selected another ice cube.

"We lived in one neighborhood, when I was a little girl, that was particularly prone to suicide bombings. It would be a normal day, then suddenly a bus or a cafe would go up in flames, and everyone would hide away inside." She turned to him to offer another ice cube. "Everyone was running in, but I would always run out."

It didn't surprise him. "Just as I suspected. You were born insane."

"I was being reasonable. The danger was there before the bomb- when everyone was outside, in the daylight, not expecting it. Afterwards, the harm had been done. Why bother hiding then? I had the city to all to myself. I loved it."

"I'm sure your parents loved that."

"My father was impressed. My mother decided it was time for a divorce and a move to Haifa."

"I think I might've liked your mom."

That earned him a genuine smile- a rare prize. "I believe she would have liked you too."

He wouldn't risk her taking it back by commenting further, so he shared his own tale of finding peace in the dark. "When _I _was little-"

"Before I was born."

He glared.

She grinned. "Could not resist."

"Hmph. As I was saying, when I was little, my mom and her sisters would take me and my cousins to spend summers off the coast of Maine. At least once per summer, there would be a storm bad enough to cut off the power on the entire island. My mother and aunts considered blackouts a cause for celebration. They'd light every candle they could find, invite all the neighbors, and use it as an excuse to eat all the food in the fridge and drink all the booze in the house. My prim and proper 'housewife-from-a-good-family' mother would get silly drunk. Eventually she'd end up pulling out this little battery-powered record player and putting on Sinatra records and making everyone dance. The last song would always be _As Time Goes By_, and she would always save the last dance for me." He smiled softly at the memory. "I'd actually forgotten that until just now." How could he have forgotten that?

"So you are telling me you can dance?"

"Of course I can dance, _Ziva. _Every 'young-man-from-a-good-family' is a proficient dancer."

She stood and held out a hand. "Prove it."

"There's no music," he protested. But he took her hand.

"You can sing your mother's song."

And maybe the world really was coming to an end, because this was turning into a night unlike any other. He decided he would take it. He pulled her close. "Dancing is the last bastion of chauvinism, Z," he whispered in her ear as her wet curls brushed against his chest. "Don't you dare try to lead."

"Then don't let me down." She bowed her head beneath his chin.

It was really too hot to be dancing at all, much less this close, and God knows he had no business butchering Sinatra.

But all he wanted in the world was to not let her down.

He started with a hum, then he broke into the lyrics. He confidently led Ziva through the steps that had been ingrained since childhood. She followed easily, and he could feel her smiling into his shoulder.

"_-It's still the same old story,_

_A fight for love and glory,_

_A case of do or die-"_

"Why are you here, Tony?" She raised her head and interrupted him.

His first answer must not have been acceptable after all.

"For you."

He dipped her and sang the final lines of the song. He bought just a little time.

"_The world will always welcome lovers_

_As time goes by."_

He pulled her up slowly. She did not pull away.

She stood there, waiting for him to not disappoint her.

His hands found their way into those curls that had always fascinated him, and finally (finally!) his lips found hers.

"Ziva!" He hadn't even had time to part his lips when they were caught in the light of a flashlight. "Ziva, is that you? Are you okay? Is that young man attacking you?"

Ziva laughed and buried her head in his chest for just a moment before turning to her elderly neighbor. "It's okay, Mrs. Fineman. I know him."

"They say attackers are often people you know!" The woman shouted from her second floor window.

"He is not an attacker. I promise." Ziva was still laughing and Tony held up his hands, trying his best to not look like an attacker.

"I have a taser. And pepper spray. If he tries anything, you just holler. I'll bring them both."

"Thank you, Mrs. Fineman."

"Of course you would have well-armed neighbors," Tony mumbled under his breath. But, he took notice of the fact that she was still in his arms, which meant he hadn't entirely lost his moment. The light of the flashlight died away, and he tightened his grip. "I guess that's the thing about cities. You might feel like you have them all to yourself, but you never really do."

"No." She traced his cheek with her finger. "But I do have a bedroom all to myself. And if things get too hot, a shower with excellent cooling properties. The right man could probably convince me to share."

It was a challenge. And he'd rather die than disappoint her.


	4. Undercover in the Suburbs!

**Author's Note: **Continued thanks to Amilyn for the idea and the beta work. Hope you enjoy this one, flimsy case and all!

* * *

**Undercover in the Suburbs!**

They met at the elevator, each realizing that they must have the same reason for being at the Navy Yard at 6:00 AM on a Sunday, but neither wanting to be the first to say it. Just in case.

Eventually (before the elevator doors had even closed), Tony cracked.

As Ziva had known he would.

"You here for the meeting with Vance?"

Ziva responded with a small nod. As a rule, she did not approve of speaking before 7:00 AM.

"It's a little unusual, huh? This early. On a weekend. With no notice."

Had it been a little later in the day, Ziva might have made some snide remark about his weekend plans, but it was not, so she chose to stare straight ahead, knowing that within the next few seconds, Tony would tire himself out, or the elevator would reach its destination.

"And no explanation. What's with that? It's all a little 'House on Haunted Hill', don't you think?" He gave his silent partner a sideways glance. "The Vincent Price version, not the one with Taye Diggs. That one was crap. Hey, Ziva, you don't think Vance is setting this all up to have us murdered, do you?"

"No," she answered. "Perhaps he is simply going to fire you."

"Ha. As if."

"You are right, Tony. It is much more likely that he is going to murder us."

"That's what I'm saying."

And just as Ziva knew it eventually would, the elevator reached its destination.

oOo

Tony was laughing so hard that tears were starting to gather in his eyes.

"There must be another way."

"Are you questioning my judgement, Agent David?" Vance's tone was serious, but his eyes were dancing.

"O...of course not. It is just-"

"This is the assignment, Ziver," Gibbs interrupted. "We need to know what's going on in Lealand Place. We need to know why every unit linked to a resident on that cul-de-sac has been targeted. We need good agents with undercover experience." He nodded at Tony and Ziva. "We've got the two of you. This is the assignment."

"Any questions?" Vance asked.

Tony opened his mouth as if he had something to say, but he was once again overcome by laughter. "Sorry...I'm just...sorry...it's...it's too..." He started waving his hand in front of his face, trying to calm down.

Vance had clearly had enough. "Fine. Head home and change. You have two hours to put your affairs in order, then you'll meet back here for a final briefing and some prep work." He smiled, "I suppose congratulation are in order- it's your wedding day and moving day, all in one."

Tony's laughter took on a note of hysteria, and Ziva must have looked as shellshocked as she felt, because Gibbs gave her a sympathetic pat and his best advice.

"The quicker you solve the case, the quicker it ends. Work fast."

oOo

"So, you were easy, Agent DiNozzo," Ally from Covert Ops said as she handed him a packet of paperwork. "We just reactivated Professor DiNardo, so you're all set as far as documents go. Same backstory. We're working with George Mason University, and you'll have an office there, which will make it easy to communicate with NCIS while maintaining cover."

She handed Ziva her own packet.

"You are now Eva DiNardo, formerly Morales. I was told you speak Spanish fluently?" When Ziva nodded, Ally continued, "Good. It shouldn't come up, but we'll be covered if it does. You are Costa Rican, the only child of the widow Hector Morales who still resides in Cartago."

"Costa Rica!" Tony jumped in. "Hey, Ziva, I've been there. Beautiful country. They use _"vos" _instead of _"tu" _though. You should remember that so you don't blow our cover."

"Are you honestly giving _me_ linguistic advice, Tony? Besides, Eva speaks English perfectly."

Tony snorted. "Then we're definitely going to need to get another agent."

Ally stepped in before Ziva could murder her partner. "You came to the U.S. to attend UCLA, where you met Professor DiNardo."

Ziva wrinkled her nose. "He was my professor?"

"It was very scandalous." Ally winked at her. "A change of scenery became necessary, hence Tony DiNardo's decision to enlist with the USMC Reserves. His term is up though, so he's ready to get back into academia. Although, obviously not on the West Coast."

"Obviously," Tony echoed with a tight grin.

"Wait. _Tony_ is the former Marine?"

"What's wrong, David? You don't find it believable that an academic could feel a duty to serve his country?"

"What I do not find believable is that you would be an academic," she hissed.

"Oh, I could be an academic," he hissed back.

"Name the last book you read."

"Why would anyone read when they could just watch the movie?"

"Might I interrupt?" Ally asked.

Ziva and Tony took a few steps back from each other, which made Ally smile.

"I think the two of you will be _quite_ believable as a married couple."

"If Tony is the professor _and _the former marine, what is my job?"

"To be a good a wife, _Eva. _You know, make sure supper's on the table when I get home, that I'm taken care of in the be-"

"Tony," Ziva broke in, "we're going undercover in the suburbs, not the 1950's."

"Actually, Agent David," Ally broke in sympathetically, "he's right. Not about everything, obviously," she gave Tony a tired look, "but about you not working. Professor DiNardo is our link to NCIS, but Eva Morales is our link to the neighborhood. She needs to fit in, and the women of Lealand Place don't work. They lunch. They shop. They have book club meetings."

"And so does Eva Morales," Ziva finished for her.

"Yes. Because there's something going on in that neighborhood, and that something has already led to the death of ten Marines. You're going to get to the bottom of it before there's another. But first," Ally brightened, "your photo shoot!"

"Our what?" Tony asked. He figured he should ask. He certainly couldn't count on Ziva to do so, with the way she was just standing there, gaping.

"Photo shoot. You're a couple who's been together for five years. You're moving in to your dream neighborhood to finally put down permanent roots. You have photos."

She led them into a conference room filled with equipment, clothing racks, and a woman that Tony strongly suspected to be a makeup artist. Tony looked at Ziva, wondering if she was going to start brandishing her weapons. But he'd underestimated her. She was trained for this. She sat down in that makeup chair like a pro.

"Let's just get this over with."

oOo

Ally said they were saving the best for last. Tony and Ziva were pretty much in agreement that Ally had a sadistic streak.

"Tony and Eva DiNardo are the kind of couple who would have simply gone to a Justice of the Peace to get married." Ziva tried to make it a declaration. It sounded more like a plea.

"No." Ally was firm.

"Well, then it was probably a private island- close friends and family only. No photos." Tony did his best.

"Tony and Eva DiNardo had a beautiful, well-attended church wedding." She nodded to the hanging garment bags behind them. "Now get into your costumes."

Tony's "costume" wasn't so bad. Pretty nice as far as rented tuxes went, actually. He did his best James Bond face in the mirror of the men's room before setting off to find his bride.

"Tony!"

Ziva's head, was sticking out of restroom door.

"M'Lady?" He asked with a bow.

She ignored his ridiculous gesture. "I need help."

"What kind of help?"

"Is anyone out there?"

"Just us chickens."

"And I am the one who does not speak English?" Ziva asked as she stepped into the hall. She was wearing a long white dress with a full skirt, and her hair was twisted up and pinned with flowers.

She didn't really look like Ziva, Tony told himself.

But there was still something about her that took his breath away.

If Ziva noticed, she didn't let on. She simply turned her back to him to reveal a complicated system of hooks and ribbons. "Tie me."

She braced herself with her hand against the wall, and he began working the ribbon up her back. The image felt familiar- something he'd seen in a movie, or maybe even a painting- and again he found himself surprisingly breathless.

Because this could have been for real- Ziva, in a wedding dress. It could have been real, and it would have been Ray in the tux, and... He wondered where it ranked on his list of sins that he was relieved Ray Cruz became a murderer before he became Ziva's husband.

oOo

It was cold in the Navy Yard. That was why she had chickenbumps. It had nothing to do with the way Tony's fingers lingered on her back as he laced her dress.

Nothing at all.

When he finally finished, she turned to face him. He was looking her up and down, and she found his expression unreadable.

"It is awful. Who would want to look like a...like a cupcake on her wedding day?"

"A woman with daddy issues and princess fantasies?"

"Ah," she smirked at him. "Your favorite kind."

"Nah. My favorite kind have daddy issues and weapons proficiency," his wink proved he knew he'd won that round. "Ready to document our fictional wedding?"

"I am ready to do whatever it takes to get me out of this dress."

Tony opened his mouth, but changed his mind. "Too easy. You're slipping, Ziva."

She had the pleasure of watching his smile fade when he opened the door to the conference-room-turned-photo-studio.

But then she saw why.

Sitting cross-legged in the middle of a credenza against the back wall, holding a giant Caf-Pow was Abby. She was flanked by Gibbs, a smirking McGee, and Ducky.

It was too much. "What is this?"

"Gibbs asked us to come by so we can be read-in on the Lealand Place Op," McGee said.

"But he agreed to let us watch this first," Abby added, hopping up to hug them each in turn. "You guys look beautiful!"

"Ducky?" Ziva asked.

"I confess, I am only here for the show. Jethro invited me," he added in response to Ziva's sharp look. "You do look stunning, my dear."

And then Tony was laughing again.

"Stop. It."

"It's laugh or cry, Z," he explained as he handed her Eva's engagement and wedding rings. "Laugh or cry."

"It's okay to laugh, Tony!" Abby shouted. "It's supposed to be the happiest day of your life."

Even Gibbs chuckled at that, prompting Ziva to look him dead in the eye and mouth, "Traitor."

But they were professionals. At least she was. Which was why, when he used his tongue during their "Kiss the Bride" photo, she chose not to give him a swift kick to the crotch. She simply returned the kiss with vigor as a punishment to Gibbs and smashed wedding cake into Tony's face with a bit more force than was strictly necessary.

oOo

Ally had professional movers doing most of the work of setting up Tony and Eva DiNardo's new home while Tony DiNozzo and Ziva David were busy playing dress-up. When they reached the gates of Lealand Place, the handful of boxes in the DiNardos' Subaru were filled with clothing...and family photos.

Tony entered the code at the gate and squeezed "Eva's" thigh. "Ready, sweetheart?"

Ziva scooted in close and wrapped her arm around his. "As I'll ever be. Baby."

That was Tony's first clue that perhaps "Old Ziva" would be making an appearance during this assignment.

He liked it.

They pulled up to a large home on a tiny lot that looked exactly like all the other large homes on tiny lots in the gated community.

The American Dream.

The inside of the house was as predictable as the outside, but at least Tony and Ziva didn't have to spend the evening arranging furniture. They cracked a couple of beers, because it was way past time for a drink, and began putting away clothes and hanging up pictures.

Within half an hour they had visitors.

Isabelle, Anna and Keely- who referred to themselves as the "Welcome Wagon," much to Ziva's confusion and Tony's delight- arrived bearing a casserole, cookies and a bottle of wine.

"We figured you wouldn't want to have to worry about cooking and moving in at the same time," said Keely. She appeared to be around Ziva's age, and a bit over-dressed for a Sunday.

"Although it looks like you're already all moved in. Wow!" Isabelle took in the perfectly-placed furniture.

Ziva wrapped her arm around Tony's waist and thanked the women for the food. "We are lucky that the university hired movers to help us get settled. Still, it will be wonderful not to have think about dinner. We are starving. Won't you join us?"

"So you're a professor, Mr. DiNardo? Or is it Dr. DiNardo?" Asked Anna, the oldest member of the "Welcome Wagon," as they moved into the eat-in kitchen.

"Just call me Tony. I teach Film Studies." He flashed the woman his best smile. Older women were his bread and butter.

"Fascinating." She returned his flirty smile.

"He just finished two years with the Marine reserves," Ziva interjected, ruffling Tony's hair. "He considered re-upping, but he just could not take the haircut any longer."

"What can I say, ladies? My hair is my best feature." He pinched Ziva's behind. She subtly pulled his hair in retribution. He managed not to wince, because Tony- DiNozzo or DiNardo- was just that smooth.

Anna looked ready to comment on his best features, but she was interrupted by Isabelle.

"You were in the Marines! Oh my gosh, Jackson and Alex will be thrilled!" She looked at Keely, who nodded in agreement with considerably more calm than Isabelle was able to manage. "This neighborhood is really friendly to military families. There are, like, six ex-Marine families here. And there are all sorts of organizations- actually, thanks to Anna. She and her husband are super supportive."

"We do what we can to support our men and women who serve," Anna said. "Eva, I noticed your accent. It's lovely. Are you European, dear?"

"Costa Rican." She giggled and covered Tony's ears. "And don't mention Europeans in front of Tony. He once had a French girlfriend." She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "It did not end well, if you know what I mean."

Right. Old Ziva. Well, he wasn't the only one with a touchy romantic past. "It's true," he admitted. "It was around the same time that Eva was with a fellow Central American. Talk about not ending well! That guy wound up in prison. But now we're together. All's well that ends well, right, Sweetie?"

"Yes." She moved her arms to around his neck in a classic Ziva half-hug-half-chokehold. "And we are just so happy to have found this place. Such a wonderful place to start our family."

"You're expecting?" Anna raised an eyebrow at Tony.

"Not yet!" Ziva was the one who responded. "But soon, we hope. We really want a large family. Tony cannot wait to hold our newborn baby and change diapers and play catch. He is not getting any younger, so...soon."

As Tony sputtered, Isabelle jumped up to hug Ziva. "Oh Eva! I'm so glad you guys moved here. We are going to be such good friends, I can tell. We can talk fertility issues, pregnancy, and- Oh! I almost forgot, we wanted to make sure to invite you to join our book club. The next meeting isn't for a couple of weeks, so there's plenty of time. Keely, did you bring the book for Eva?" She turned to Ziva. "Keely's hosting the next meeting, and she picked a good one."

Keely pulled out a paperback and presented it to Ziva with both hands, while Isabelle squealed and Anna continued to eye Tony.

"_Fifty Shades of Grey_?"

"Have you already read it?" Keely asked.

"No. I have not even heard of it," Ziva responded.

"Oh," Anna jumped in, never looking away from Tony, "you're in for a real treat."

"Okay, well, we won't keep you any longer!" Isabelle said. "I'm just right across the way, if you need anything, and Keely and Anna are down at the end of the cul-de-sac. We'll have a barbecue or something next weekend so you can meet the guys! It'll be great!"

Tony and Ziva stood at the front door and watched the women leave. Anna turned at the end of the driveway to wave back at them.

"Welcome to Lealand Place!"

"Newborn babies, huh?" Tony whispered in Ziva's ear.

"Dozens of them. In fact, Professor Tony DiNardo would love to offer his services in the neighborhood as a babysitter. For the practice." She gave him a smile and a little pat on the cheek.

"Is that how we're going to play this, David?"

A laugh was her only response. She left him on the porch alone, and he could have sworn that she deliberately wiggled her ass as she walked away.

Oh, it was on.

oOo

If anyone had been keeping score, Ziva felt pretty confident she would have been the victor of their first day undercover. Until bedtime.

It should not have been an issue. They had a king bed. There was no reason for one of them to even be aware of the other as they slept.

But according to Tony DiNozzo, Tony DiNardo was a cuddler.

Oh, she'd protested, but he had argued that it was part of his process. Each time she would roll away from him, he'd follow her, whining. After several nights spent playing cat and mouse she realized that if she had any hope of actually getting some sleep during this assignment, she would have to lie there and tolerate him pressed up against her.

She told him that she imagined he was used to such behavior from the women in his bed.

But she had bigger fish to filet, like figuring out who in their quiet little street was trading military secrets so that she could arrest them and go back to sleeping in her own bed.

Personally, she suspected Anna. Something about the woman did not feel right. Tony disagreed- he thought she didn't like Anna because Anna liked him a little too much.

Ridiculous.

Tony favored Isabelle, but for no other reason than she annoyed him. "She's too...sweet. And it's like every word out of her mouth is! punctuated! by! an! exclamation! point! No one is that chipper."

"Abby Sciuto," Ziva responded.

"Abs is one of a kind. Also, if she weren't our beloved forensics wizard, she'd probably be a serial killer. I'm sticking with Isabelle."

Of course, it could have also been Keely. Or one of the other entirely ordinary wives they had met so far. Or maybe one of the husbands who talked to Tony about the military while staring at Ziva's breasts. Or maybe it was none of them, and this whole thing was a waste of time, or some punishment cooked up by Gibbs for some unknown offense.

All Ziva knew was that she had been living in the house on Lealand Place for over a week, she had taken advantage of every social activity available, and she'd yet to meet anyone who stood out as an obvious traitor.

"Don't you have your little book club meeting coming up soon? That should lend itself to some pretty serious girl talk, right? Maybe it will give us some leads."

"Ugh, the book club." Ziva was not looking forward to that.

"But you're such an accomplished reader."

She ignored his tone and tossed her copy of _Fifty Shades of Grey _at him. "Look at what they are wanting me to read."

She watched Tony's eyes get bigger as he flipped through the book. Finally he tossed it back to her and said with a wink, "I stand by my earlier opinion- why would anyone read the book when they could just watch the movie?"

Touche.

oOo

Three weeks into their assignment and Tony thought he and Ziva had gotten into a nice little routine. Living with her wasn't as difficult as he'd feared it would be. She was actually pretty funny, with her running commentaries of her days spent at walking clubs and book clubs and baking clubs, and, well, lots of other clubs. He told her she made a pretty good housewife. She told him she missed her knives. She saw him off every morning as he left for his office. He said goodbye every morning by slapping her ass.

"It's my character," he told her. "He likes slapping your ass. Plus, your character likes having her ass slapped. She really took that whole _Fifty Shades of Grey_ thing to heart."

And every morning, Ziva would smile and lean into his ear, looking to all the world as though she was a woman in love, giving her man a whispered goodbye. What she was really doing was threatening him.

"Do remember that Eva is temporary, but Ziva is permanent. Ziva both dislikes having her ass slapped and misses her knives."

And every morning Tony would just smile back at her. The old Ziva. Just as he had hoped.

"We're making progress," he told Gibbs during his weekly debriefing. "We're positive that it's the Love From Home neighborhood organization that's involved in leaking the information, but we can't figure out exactly how they're doing it. Were you guys able to track the packages sent to the troops? Were they reaching their destination?"

"Yeah, and those packages are filled with nothing but baked goods. If you and Ziva are right and this organization is the one doing all the damage, it's not with the packages."

Tony rubbed his temples. "But it's too coincidental. The units being targeted are the units represented in the neighborhood...the units receiving the packages."

"No such thing as coincidences. But those packages are being sent off to a neutral receiving center. The senders don't have access to troop locations. We're investigating all of the women in the group, as well as their husbands and their history with the military. No red flags."

"This is it, Boss. I feel it."

"Then figure it out...DiNardo."

"Thanks, Boss," Tony said, but the screen had already gone black.

When Tony returned that evening, he walked into the house smelling of spices and Clorox. He found Ziva in the bathroom, scrubbing the tub as if it were her sworn enemy. She did not turn around when he entered.

"Tell me you remembered that we agreed to host a movie night tonight."

"Of course," he lied.

"Good. I made empanadas. You have to choose the movie."

Clearly he was getting the better end of the deal.

"Wow, Ziva," he said as she stood from the glistening tub. "You really know how to clean a bathroom."

"Boris taught me when I was a girl."

"Boris?"

"Our housekeeper. Defected from the KGB. My father said he was a good example of what happened when you chose the losing side."

"And my dad said that our housekeeper was a good example of what happened when you hired them based on looks." He grinned. "I guess that's the thing about our dads- everything was a lesson."

She snorted and came to stand beside him, admiring her work. "Boris was an excellent teacher. Any advice from Gibbs?"

"Yep. 'Figure it out, DiNardo.'"

"Helpful."

"He did confirm that there's nothing hinky with the care packages."

"But there has to be a connection there!" Ziva's face got all wrinkly the way it did whenever she was frustrated. He loved that face.

"There is. We just haven't found it yet."

"You mean _I _haven't found it yet."

"We're a team. And who knows, maybe we'll get our big break in the case during tonight's viewing of _Casablanca._"

"_Casablanca_? Isn't that a little...obvious, Tony?"

"Hey now," he warned, "I am the undisputed film expert here. If it were up to you we'd spend the night watching things blow up. We live on a cul-de-sac, _Eva._ _Casablanca_ is perfect. And it's not obvious; it's a classic."

"As you wish."

"Nice _Princess Bride_ reference, Buttercup," he said with appreciation.

She blew him a kiss and returned to the kitchen and her empanadas.

oOo

Tony DiNardo was a cuddler, and Eva Morales enjoyed it, which was fine while they were curled up on the couch, watching a movie they knew by heart and trying to catch glimpses into the character of their neighbors.

Perhaps it was less fine when all of the neighbors had gone home, and it was just the two of them, huddled together in the middle of a giant bed. Because weren't they really just Tony and Ziva then, and shouldn't they know better?

But they had a history, and they had gotten a little too comfortable with each other over the last few weeks, and they'd both had at least one too many glasses of wine.

Despite anything she'd ever said, some things really were inevitable.

"I think you're going native," he whispered into her hair.

She turned in his arms to face him. "I am not!"

"Are too," he said. "You have the exclamation points to prove it."

And he kissed her.

She kissed him back, without reservation, pushing her body closer to his, all the while knowing that he was the one who started it, and she would have to be the one to end it.

Which she would...in a minute, she thought. She hooked her leg over his, frantically running her hands over him, trying to get as much as she could, before this was over. Inevitably.

His hands were on her breasts, and she arched into him, whispering an expletive under her breath.

"Tony-" His name was ragged in her mouth. Regretful.

"Don't." Her regret was echoed in his one word.

"I have to." She rolled away from him swiftly, before she could change her mind. Her body hated her for it.

For a moment, the only sounds were of the two of them, trying to get control of their breathing.

And then there was Tony, asking a question two years in the making. "Is this punishment for Paris?"

She squeezed her eyes shut against the humiliation of that memory, of the woman she had been that night- still unsure of her place, still afraid to lose, wanting desperately to feel okay and normal and loved. He had responded firmly but kindly then and never spoken of it since. She could have berated him for bringing it up now, but he did not deserve that.

"No," was her sincerest answer. "You were right then. Just like I'm right now," she added gently. "Not this way."

"It just feels like we have this pattern-"

"I know."

"We'll talk about it after the case?"

"Yes," she agreed. She knew it was time.

She waited, but he made no move to wrap her in his arms again. They were DiNozzo and David, and there would be no more pretending tonight.

"Ziva?" He whispered, just as she finally began to fall asleep. "Was Ray punishment for Paris?"

Her breath caught. No more pretending. "Maybe."

She waited, but he had nothing left to say.

oOo

If anyone had been paying attention, they would have noticed a new awkwardness in the relationship between Tony DiNardo and his young wife. They would have sensed a tension that had perhaps always been there, but never quite this strong.

But Tony and Eva were still all smiles around their neighbors, and no one looked too closely. They wouldn't have had much time anyway.

The very next week, Eva arrived at Keely's a few minutes early for their walking club. She met the postman on her way, and cheerfully offered to take up her friend's mail. She noticed something odd- "Thank You" postcards from overseas, with messages that seemed a little..._off._

She didn't give the cards to her friend, but to her "husband," who took them to his office. Secrets were uncovered, codes were broken, a mole was found, a traitor was arrested, and another assignment came to an end.

SecNav threw them a reception. It was big deal, catching terrorists.

Tony, Ziva, Abby and McGee stood together on a balcony, while the party continued without them.

"But _why_?" Abby asked for the hundredth time.

"Money," Ziva answered again.

"But...but...all those people. Her husband's friends!"

"People really, really like money," Tony said.

"But-"

"Let's go, Abby," McGee gently took her arm. "Let's leave this behind tonight. We'll stop at my computer and look through Tony and Ziva's wedding photos again. That will cheer you up."

"Okay," she agreed in a small voice.

Tony and Ziva watched them go, then he clinked his glass against hers. "Well done on this one, Agent David."

She returned his toast. "It was a team effort, Very Special Agent DiNozzo."

They stood quietly for a while, but then Tony broke the silence.

As Ziva knew he would.

"We're never going to have that conversation, are we?"

"Not if the pattern holds," she said.

Tony DiNozzo knew a loophole when he was presented with one. "Feel like breaking some patterns tonight, Buttercup?"

She took a slow sip of her drink and decided she would very much like to begin breaking patterns. She linked her arm through his. "As you wish."


	5. Shopping Trip!

******Author's Note: **Continued thanks to Amilyn for the idea and the beta work.

* * *

**Shopping Trip!**

"No."

"Why not?" Tony began folding the silicone sides of the cupcake-shaped cake pan on top of each other. "This could provide hours of entertainment."

"Put it down, DiNozzo," Ziva ordered, barely stopping herself from stamping her feet. He was going to live to regret it if it came down to her stamping her feet.

"Abby likes sweets. In fact, I'm pretty sure she likes cupcakes specifically. That makes this a thoughtful gift, David." He was feeling pretty punchy. Three hours of scouring four home goods stores after an already long work day would do that to a person.

Ziva, on the other hand, didn't really get punchy. She got crabby. "Fine. Get your friend a _joke_ gift for her wedding, but do not expect me to be part of it. We will purchase separate gifts." _As we should have done from the start _was her unspoken addendum.

He did not appreciate her tone, but he also didn't want Abby's gift to be a joke. He dropped the cake pan on the nearest shelf. "We're in this together. It's obvious from the Palmer gift debacle that no one appreciates my solo efforts. Let's just find something we can agree on, so I can begin the phase of my weekend that doesn't involve cookware. Or you." Ziva didn't quite have the market cornered on crabby.

She did not even acknowledge his jab. They had moved past the point where they used words like arrows slung to sting. He had merely aimed to annoy, so she would twist the tables on him by being unflappable. This was their game, and tonight she was winning. "As I said before, nice sheets are the-"

He raked his hand over his face. They had been through this. "Absolutely not. We're not buying Abby wedding night sheets. We're not. I won't."

"Why do you keep calling them 'wedding night' sheets? They have nothing to do with the wedding night. They are for the home, and bedding-"

This time he clamped his hand over her mouth. "Stop talking. Our gift will have nothing to do with the bed. You hear me? Nothing-" He jerked his hand back. "Hey! What the fuck, Ziva?" The little monster had bitten him.

She waited to speak until he finished his whining. Unflappable. "First of all, if you ever put your hand on my mouth again, you will pull back a stump. Second of all, why are you being such a prude? It is childish, and while it is not unlike you to be childish, it is unlike to be childish in this way. What's bothering you? You might as well tell me."

Tony continued examining his hand. She'd left teeth marks! He considered making her pay for some antiseptic. "First of all to you, Zi_va_, this," he held up his hand to show her the marks, "is a classic example of an _overreaction. _Second of all, you and I both know I'm not a prude. And finally, it's _Abby._ Abby, who wears pigtails. That Abby. _My_ Abby. I don't want to think about her and that guy in bed. I don't want to by her a gift that remotely reminds me of her and that guy in bed. As far as I'm concerned, buying Abby sheets for her wedding is the equivalent of buying your little sister condoms for her Sweet 16. I'm not doing it."

Ziva thought condoms were a very practical gift for a "Sweet 16" and had her little sister lived that long, that might have been exactly what she would've given her. But Tony did not need to hear any of that. "You do not like Van?"

"Don't remind me of the name. It doesn't help for me to remember his name. 'Van,'" he practically spat out the word. "No one writes 'Van' on their child's birth certificate. He made that up."

"I assure you, he did not."

"Wait." Tony put on his investigator face. "How do you know?"

She raised an eyebrow and turned to examine a bouquet of multi-colored spatulas.

"Ziva David, you little sneak. You looked into him, didn't you?" Her single shoulder shrug was the only confirmation he needed. Sometimes she was the absolute best. Not that she needed to hear him say it. "What did you find?"

"Absolutely nothing that should worry you, Tony." She had been saving this, her little gift for him. For when he needed it. One less concern to make him lose sleep.

And, the thing was, he knew she had done it for him. Invading other people's privacy wasn't Ziva's style. She did it for Abby, to make sure she'd be okay, but she had really done it for him.

It was a nice moment, and neither of them could tolerate a nice moment for very long.

"I don't know why they could not have registered like normal people," she grumbled.

"It would have taken them less time to do that than it's taken us to find one measly gift," he agreed. "You know, why did they have to rush straight into the wedding stuff? It's fast. Don't you think this is fast?"

"It has been nearly a year," she pointed out.

"Right? A year. Only a year."

"They are not teenagers, Tony. I assume they know what they want out of life."

He wasn't ready to move on. "But where's the romance? The chase? The 'will they or won't they'?"

Ziva stopped suddenly in the middle of the isle and turned to face him. He nearly tripped over her. "Perhaps some people do not enjoy living like that, wondering if they will or they won't. Perhaps they want to know where they stand. And perhaps once they know, they want to take action. Perhaps some people do not enjoy games."

He reached up and untangled a piece of her hair that had gotten caught on a display of unidentifiable cooking accoutrements before asking quietly, "But where's the fun in that?"

She held his gaze, let him wonder for a while how she would play this. "I suppose there is something to be said for slow anticipation. As long as you are assured a satisfying outcome." And with that she was moving again, looking for perfection among the mass-produced.

"Let's just get them plates or something." He nodded toward the china.

Ziva's lips quirked.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing." She chuckled quietly.

"What's so funny?"

"Just a joke in my head. You will not find it funny."

"I might. I like jokes."

"It's just..." her lips quirked again. "Bone china." Now she was grinning. "You know, for Abby and her skulls."

He laughed. Maybe Ziva did get punchy. "Too bad Wedgewood doesn't make a crossbones pattern."

"That would be the perfect gift," she said. "Exactly right."

Clearly the canned air and Muzak were getting to him, because he heard himself say, "We could do it ourselves. Paint it onto plates."

"That would take time," she reminded him. "And togetherness. I thought you were eager to begin the part of your weekend that didn't include me."

"Well...but this is for Abby," he smiled. "Besides, it would be nice to get something exactly right for once."

And they both knew that if they were going to find "exactly right," it wasn't going to be in any of the places they'd already looked. They would simply have to create it.


	6. Song Fic!

**Song Fic!**

**AN: I confess to not knowing if this is exactly how a songfic is supposed to work- I don't read them, you see. Yet, I think it counts, as I can take very little credit for this story- all of it goes to NCIS and Mary Chapin Carpenter's _New Year's Day_, a lovely song which you should now go and download immediately. Heck, buy the whole album.**

Crime is no respecter of national holidays, a truth long evident to Tony and Ziva.

But it is the last night of December, and though they find themselves trapped in Baltimore, far from their respective friends and scheduled parties, they decide it is no excuse to ignore the passing of another year.

This is his turf, so she follows when he takes her elbow and guides her into a little bar on a residential street. It is as crowded as one would expect, but they maneuver well together and manage to tuck themselves into the only available table, right by the door. There is a bustle, people constantly going and coming, and every time the door opens it pulls a draft in.

The entire situation is less than ideal, but she allows it to pass without comment and simply moves a little closer to his warmth with each and every gust of cold air.

This must encourage him, because the lines around his eyes begin to smooth and once the waitress brings their order, he launches immediately into stories from another time and life.

The celebrations around them and the easiness between them blurs out all the edges, and she knows that later she's going to struggle to determine whether this night really happened, or whether she dreamed it. He is lost in the reverie of his recollections, and she leans in closer so she doesn't miss a thing. She knows his secret- in the details lie the heart.

This is possibility, a fragile kind of magic, and she wants to memorize it all before it fades away.

oOo

They're on their second round when the music starts up. She has been moving progressively closer to him all evening, her smile growing wider with every story he tells. Not once has she chastised him. Not once has she seemed to wish she was anywhere else. And it might just be the lights in here, but he swears her eyes are shining, and he'll do anything to keep them this way.

His head is not yet clouded by the gin, and he realizes that either the night is just starting, or it's beginning to wind down. He knows which he wants to be true and thinks his stories are the key to keeping her. He's having a harder time recalling life before her, so he takes a detour into shared memories.

_Remember that green dress?_

_I remember your face when it fell to the ground._

And the easiness remains, and she has memories of her own.

_Remember when you became obsessed with playing air guitars?_

_That was a competition, Zi-vah. I looked damn good doing that._

_You looked like a boxer who kept swinging and missing._

She gives a little imitation, and the scent of the light perfume on her wrist lingers in the air. Any hope of a comeback is lost, his mind entirely preoccupied with the thought that she smells exactly like possibility.

oOo

They leave the bar together and make the long walk back. The sky is a bleached out silver against the bones of the city. It will begin to snow soon, and that will change everything. And they are both thinking the same thought, though neither is saying it- that it's remarkable how change happens suddenly and slowly, all at the same time. That it's infuriating how you can never be sure whether a chance is there for the taking or lost to you entirely before you reach for it.

That on New Year's Day, perhaps it is enough to dwell in possibility.


End file.
